


Waiting for the Miracle

by PatsyDecline



Category: Dead To Me (TV)
Genre: Angel!Au, F/F, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28854630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatsyDecline/pseuds/PatsyDecline
Summary: Judy doesn't know why she was spared in the car crash but she's going to use this borrowed time to try and help Jen, if she can.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't post things I'm not absolutely sure I'm going to finish. Until now! I've been stuck writing this for months maybe, so I thought I'd just put it out there and hopefully some lovely comment dopamine with encourage me to finish it. 
> 
> The timeline of this whole fic is full nonsense so don't @ me. The show's timeline is also nonsense so you should be used to that by now. 
> 
> No one has betaed this and I don't understand tenses so also don't @ me about that.

#  Chapter One

Jen can’t remember the last time she felt the same little zing of excitement that zips through her now as she drives over to Judy’s house to surprise her. She knew her years of real estate knowledge would pay off somehow, and she would recognise those slick McMansions up at Harbor Ridge anywhere. Luckily the photo of Judy and Steve had the house number in the background or it would have been a harder sleuth job. 

They only met at that stupid grief group a few weeks ago but it seemed like they’d known each other so much longer. It had only been a few days since she’d last seen her but Jen had that excited zing as though it was a date or something. She’d picked out a fancier than usual bottle of wine to surprise her with, a box of the little cookies she knows Judy likes. How long had it been since she’d made a friend? Met anyone who was actually interested in a single word she had to say, not just some disinterested parent from the school or one of Ted’s bandmates who would leave stray girlfriends in her kitchen while they made a racket in the studio. 

Judy asks her questions and makes her laugh and seems to actually listen when Jen speaks. It’s been so long, she’s forgotten what that felt like. 

Jen knocks on the enormous glass front doors of 232 Harbour Ridge, hiding the wine behind her back then chiding herself for being so childish. It’s late but not by their standards, only according to the world outside their little bubble. Her knocks echo inside the cavernous space of the house until it fades into silence to be replaced by footsteps. 

But it isn’t Judy and her stomach drops in a sickening lurch. 

“You’re Steve.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re alive?”

“Yeah. It’s 11:30 at night. What’s happening here? Do I know you?”

Jen feels like she’s in freefall for a moment, desperately flicking through every conversation she’s had with Judy about Steve, checking to see if there’s any way she could have misunderstood. Maybe somehow she had misunderstood and mistaken obviously very alive Steve for a dead version. But no. Judy must have been lying to her this whole time? Jen goes cold for a second at the thought, her knees threatening to give way. 

“No, I’ve just heard a lot about you. Is Judy here?” Jen thinks she does a good job of keeping her voice even and casual when she wants to fucking scream. How dare she make Jen think they were friends when she was lying to her this entire time. She came into Jen’s house and fucking lied right to her face! Jen wants to fucking throttle her.

“Shit, you haven’t heard. Judy’s dead. I’m sorry.”

“What? No. When? What happened?”

It’s a gut punch to the chest when she’s already reeling. Jen is sure for a second that she’s going to puke with the emotional whiplash of hating Judy for her betrayal then losing her entirely. Judy is dead. Steve is alive. This is too much to take on and her brain throbs with a threatening migraine. 

Steve is alive, and staring at her like  _ she’s  _ ruined  _ his  _ evening. 

“It was a couple of months ago. There was a car accident. Look, I have to go. You’re okay, right?”

He squints at her a little, watches as she wobbles a little, unsteady with the massive weight of all this new information. He backs away, already closing the door a little before Jen answers. 

“It’s just…I saw her? I talked to her a few days ago?”

  
“Look, I don’t know who the hell you are or what little game you’re trying to play, but I assure you my fiancée died two months ago. I would know. Now you should leave now before I call the cops.”

Steve closes the door and leaves her there, stunned for a moment before going back to her car in case he follows through with that call. He’s alive? Judy might be a fuckin’ psycho but to casually be telling people that she’s dead seemed like kind of an asshole move too. Maybe they were perfect for each other after all. 

Jen just drives for a while. She takes some of her rage out on the accelerator pedal, working her way through half a pack of cigarettes and three of her most unapproachable metal albums. She used to have this image of Judy, on the other end of the phone, in that big house and now that was all bullshit. If she had any idea where Judy was right now, she’d be tempted to drive over there and punch her in the nose. She probably could still do that, she thinks, if she answered any of the 10 missed calls and many more texts that blink unread in her phone. No. Jen can’t deal with seeing Judy right now. Or hearing her, apologetic and whimpering her bullshit excuses. 

Jen’s not fucking interested. 

She lights another cigarette even though her throat scratches in complaint. 

\---

  
“What the FUCK? Huh?”

Judy cowers and it doesn’t matter than Jen didn’t shove her like she wanted to, because the effect is the same. Jen wouldn’t give a shit if any of these other grief group strangers had lied; if anything, it would probably make her like them more, instead of just being the insipid faces that stare at her blankly. She wouldn’t be surprised if Linda had been lying about her dead husband the whole time, just for a bit of attention and company. 

Judy’s lies were different though. They were malicious. Judy had made her think they were friends. Judy had made her feel less alone at a time when her loneliness was a crushing, unbearable weight. Then she ripped off the bandaid and it took a chunk of her with it. 

“Please, Jen, I can explain!”

“What is going on?” Pastor Wayne tries to mediate with his most intentionally disarming voice which, if anything, adds fuel to Jen’s fury. 

“Why don’t you tell them what’s going on? Huh? Go ahead.”

Judy’s cowering in front of her, tears welling in her eyes as though Jen’s words stick sharp in her skin; it’s satisfying, she wants to hurt her. Everyone’s staring now, with morbid curiosity as though they’re having a lovers’ quarrel. 

“It’s very complicated.”

“No! It’s not ‘complicated’, Judy!” Jen lets out a laugh that sounds more like a gunshot, “Her fiancé? He’s NOT dead, okay? Unless that was his ghost that answered the door last night. Because that? That would be fucking complicated.” Judy looks like she’s about to cry any moment and suddenly Jen wants more, to push her further and make her face wet with tears. “But it’s not complicated because he’s not fucking dead!”

That does it and Judy turns to leave, picking up speed until she seems sure Jen isn’t following her. She’s tempted to, for a second, but let’s her flee across the park. 

Jen sits down in the grief group circle and doesn’t listen to a word anyone says for the next hour. 

\---

It’s a week later when Jen has calmed down about the whole thing. Mostly because she has too much other shit going on to allow Judy much brain space right now. She’s got a glass of wine in her hand, on her way up to bed when she hears a barely-there tap at the door. Jen would never have caught it at all if she wasn’t standing right there. Judy is already turning to walk away when Jen opens the door.

“Jen!” Judy looks startled, like she never expected her to answer. “I am so so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. It would mean so much to me if you’d let me come inside and explain. I can tell you everything. Or try to. And then after that, if you never want to see me again, you never will. Please?”

Judy falls over her words, saying them quickly as though she might lose the courage any moment. It’s jarring, seeing Judy again. Jen realises in that first second of seeing her face that, most of all, she misses her. It wasn’t until Judy disappeared from her life that Jen really noticed how omnipresent she had become. Suddenly there weren’t any messages waiting on her phone and no one ever enquired about her day. The week had been lonely. Even through the mist of anger, Jen feels a warmth at having her friend back. 

“Fine, you’ve got one glass to say your bit.”

Jen doesn’t so much let her in, as push the door open and walk away, assuming Judy will follow. She can’t make it too easy for her, not just yet. She doesn’t look back until she’s on the couch, folding her legs underneath herself and waiting for Judy to catch up after pouring herself some wine.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to pull anything or hurt anyone, I swear to God.” 

“Well, it’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?”

“I know. Steve didn’t die two months ago but I did lose him. I…” Judy stares into her wine glass, running her finger nervously around the curve of the base. “It’s my fault. I hit him.”

Judy’s eyes are full of tears and Jen doesn’t understand what she’s trying to say. 

“You hit Steve?” 

“No! The crash. Ted’s accident. I was driving. It was so dark and I was driving. I didn’t see a bend in the road and I took it too fast. He was just right there. It was an accident. I’m so sorry.”

“Ted’s accident? What are you talking about?”

Jen’s getting annoyed now. She’s been hurt enough without Judy bringing up Ted’s death for no apparent reason. 

“It’s my fault. I hit him. I wasn’t even sure what had happened. I wanted to check on him but... I couldn’t. I couldn’t move. I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt and-” Tears start to run streaks down her cheeks and Judy’s voice begins to wobble. It looks, for a moment, like she’s going to reach out for Jen’s hand but stops herself. “I died in that crash. I died and I was… gone for a while. But then I came back?”

Jen feels like cold water is being poured down her back.

“Look, I don’t know what sort of woo-woo ‘near death experience’ bullshit you thought you would try and use to get yourself out of this but it’s not fucking working. I think I’d like you to leave now.”

Jen starts to get up and Judy grabs her hand, her grip desperate and nearly bruising, like this is her only chance to make Jen understand. 

  
“I’m so sorry, I know this is a lot but what I’m telling you is real. You’ve been looking for someone to blame and it’s me. I hit him. But I died in that crash too. And now, I don’t know... now I’m something else. Please forgive me Jen. I just thought if I could help you, or be your friend… I didn’t know I was going to love you so much.” 

It was Judy. Judy, that had left her whole life in tatters. Judy, that had left Ted by the side of the road. And now she’s here, the house where her fatherless children also live, telling her that she’s murdered her husband then cheated death somehow. It’s not often that Jen is speechless but the rage that wants to explode out of her closes her throat. Judy stares at her, eyes pleading for her to say something. 

“Please, Jen. Please tell me what I can do to make things right. I’ll do it, I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”


	2. Chapter 2

The absolute fucking nerve of that woman! Jen makes her way back upstairs and as she walks past a window something outside catches her eye, something outside shimmering softly in the darkness. She looks out into the street and there’s Judy, a shadow in the darkness until the next street light illuminates her in a pool of golden light and she has two enormous iridescent wings that sway gently as she walks away. 

Jen can see them for two seconds, maybe three. Enough time that she knows what she saw. Not long enough to capture any evidence for later. When she questions the memory later, she can’t seem to focus on the details. 

When she wakes up, the memory is gone.

\---

The time, straight after it happened, was so confusing that Judy can’t recall the memory properly. When she tries to think about what happened, it’s like trying to remember an evening being black out drunk, just disjointed flashes, a series of moments that won’t fit together properly and expanses of black nothingness in between. 

Judy remembers the ‘before’ part perfectly. She wishes she didn’t. 

The car. The crash. The sickening crunch and a thud. The scream of breaks and the sharp crack of the windshield. Everything beforehand is too clear, vivid and sharp in her memory like she could see each still frame of it in perfect detail. She remembers the little car clock, blinking 12:06am. 

Afterwards, there’s nothing for a moment. It’s impossible to tell how long. Then there’s some movement and it should be painful but feels like nothing. Judy feels outside of herself, like she’s watching. She’s outside the car, watching herself get pulled aside, dragged gracelessly into the passenger seat. She’s slumped against the window. She doesn’t understand why she can see this, when her eyes are closed, but she can. Steve wipes at the cracked, bloody windscreen with his sleeve. He drives away. 

She sees the other man and he looks back at her. She raises her hand. He waves back. They both know this is it. 

After that, there isn’t anymore confusion. There’s just forgiveness and lightness and relief. 

She remembers being given her wings, stretching them out for the first time as far as she could, testing the weight of them and seeing them glistening in bright pearlescent white. 

Judy remembers flying for the first time. It’s not that she was afraid really (there’s no way to hurt herself if she falls), it just seemed like something that would be hard to learn. But it turns out no one needs to learn, it just happens and then she’s flying as naturally as breathing. She learns that her wings aren’t really new additions; they’ve always been a part of her and the only thing that’s changed is that she can see them. Judy can move her wings just as she can reach out with her hands and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. 

She remembers being given her purpose and it’s perfect. She’s instructed to spend her Life After Life with the elderly. To get to know them and be there for them when they’re ready to pass. Judy would be the first one they see, their guide who comforts them when everything is different and too new. She holds their hands, strokes at their skin that has become smooth and soft with age. When they open their new eyes and see her with wings, she tells them it’s over now and it’s okay. 

They can’t understand just yet but at least they aren’t alone. 

\---

Judy attends her own funeral. 

When she sees Steve, Steve doesn’t see her. No one sees her, except maybe a child who points, but she could have been at the statue of an angel on the grave behind her.

It’s like she just isn’t there. 

It’s then that Judy realises that she doesn’t know what all the rules of this are. 

\--- 

Her wings are both there and not there. 

They’re always a part of her, but sometimes they’re corporeal and sometimes they aren’t. She can flex and move them, even when no one around her can see or feel them. When she’s alone, she practises making them tangible then tucking them back out of existence and it feels like flexing a muscle she’s never used before. 

When Judy molts her first feather, she gives it to Abe. She isn’t sure he’ll be able to see it but he does. When she gives it to him, she tells him a story about some beautiful bird she saw. He holds the feather like it’s the most precious thing in the world, as though somehow he knows exactly what it really is. He makes a little wooden box in art class and keeps the feather in there. 

She doesn’t know if it’s okay for her to have favorites, but if she’s allowed, then it would be Abe. 

\---- 

Judy messes up once and one of the other staff members at the facility sees her wings. 

Judy only knows about her presence when she hears the startled scream of her coworker as she walks in the room. She snaps her wings back outside of reality, and starts to make excuses when Justine turns and walks away.

It’s then she learns that people forget; the knowledge of her wings seems to slip away like water from a duck. 

Judy wonders if she ever saw someone like her while she was alive, and the memory just slipped through her fingers. 

\---

When she first sees Jen, Judy isn’t sure it’s allowed. She’s still learning the rules and no one has forbidden it but... it feels like something which shouldn’t be allowed somehow. 

Judy thinks maybe if she can help Jen, she can earn a bit of extra credit. But Jen can’t see her. Or isn’t supposed to see her maybe. It’s not until the third time, that Judy tries something new, flexes a new muscle to try and take control. When she approaches her at the grief group, she has no idea if it’ll work. She acts like it does, and hopes that no one like her is watching. There hardly ever is. Judy sidles up beside Jen, reaches for a coffee cup and waits for any sign that Jen can see her. 

“I’d skip the coffee, it’s terrible.”

_ It worked! Don’t mess this up. _

\--- 

She knows  _ something _ is wrong before she even gets back to Beach Haven. 

When she walks in the front door, Judy realises exactly what and runs to Abe’s room in the hope she’s wrong and it’s not too late. She had only just stopped crying after leaving Jen’s house and Judy is powerless to stop the tears flooding back now. 

“I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

She’d missed him. Her one job and she’d fucked that up too. He had been all alone. 

“I’m so sorry, Abe.”

“Hey, I thought it might be you.”

Judy turns around and Abe is there behind her. There and not there. Tangible enough that she can hug him tight and heave a sob into his shoulder. 

  
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.”

“Yeah, you were.” Abe’s voice is so gentle and forgiving that Judy is overwhelmed at being allowed this moment to see him one last time. 

“It’s going to be so good for you there, ya know? Everybody’s waiting. I’ll catch up with you one day soon, okay?”

“If they ever give me a set of these wings, I’ll return that feather, alright?”

Judy clings tightly to his broad chest and Abe wraps his arms around her. Judy is supposed to be the one comforting him, and yet she’s never felt so safe. She knows the moment that his hands come to rest on the feathers of her wings, because there’s a sort of direct connection created between them; she can feel all the love and pain from Abe’s life and this rush of paternal pride that nearly knocks her off her feet. Judy holds on to him for as long as she can, until he’s barely there, until he’s gone. 

_ Goodbye, Abe.  _

\---

Judy assumes she’ll never see her again. She’s ruined Jen's life twice over, Judy knows she has no right to Jen’s forgiveness and it breaks her heart. 

Judy  _ feels  _ so much more these days; her love, her sadness, her broken heart are all so much more now it like her emotions might overflow any moment but alongside that, there’s everyone else's too. Sometimes she has trouble picking apart what she’s feeling and what is bleeding over from other people’s lives. Judy hopes when she feels other people’s sadness and pain, she can lessen their burden a little. Judy's too aware of all the pain in the world but she has so much love to give. She tries to even it out where she can. That would make it worth it. 

Judy figures out early on that, as well as feeling the emotions of those nearby, she can reach out and find people. It’s not like she can read anyone’s mind, she can just the soft curves and sharp angles of how they feel in the moment. 

She tries to stop herself checking in on Jen. She isn’t always successful but she tries. 

The days and nights blur together for a little while as Judy tries to focus on doing her job. And that almost feels like enough. She’s so lucky to have been given this gift so she tries to appreciate it properly. 

Judy sits and holds their hands. She feels the moment where it all stops, and then she’s still holding their hand but it’s different after that. They are there, and not there. Brand new again. No one really gives her a job title so she starts to think of herself as a soul midwife, making sure they get to where they’re going. 

Judy isn’t checking in when she feels Jen somewhere nearby. She’s just packing up the art room when she thinks she can sense her somewhere close by. And then she’s there all of a sudden and Judy’s being forgiven and it’s more than she even thought to hope for. 

“Hey.” Jen approaches her with none of the undiluted fury of the last time they saw each other. 

“Hi. I didn’t think I would see you again.” 

“Look, I’m sorry. I just… I don’t get it?”

She feels ridiculous that the first sign of forgiveness from Jen prompts Judy to start crying, treacherous tears that spring from nowhere before she’s even said anything in response. 

“C’mon, I have tissues and whiskey in my room.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! Currently I am very writers blocked so I'm hoping putting this out into the world helps a little. Maybe I'll even gets this finished. So maybe drop me a comment? That would be a nice thing, I reckon.

**Author's Note:**

> I've got another chapter which just needs brushing up and I'll probably post later today. After that, who knows. It's so hard to write at the moment. 
> 
> If you wanna add me on twitter, that's a thing you can do these days. I'm @PatsyDecIine (the L is an i because some dormant account is hogging MY username) and you can shout at me in a few months if I still haven't finished this.


End file.
